A Box of Salt
by pigeonletters
Summary: One-Shot. Jane loves kale. As long as it has the right amount of salt.


A/N I know I need to update my multi-chapter for those of you who may be following that, but I lack both motivation and inspiration. I/m sorry, guys. I'm just not feeling very fluffy lately, I guess. Plus, I'm busy with homework and I start a job at an ice cream shop tomorrow. Not that these things are totally tying me up, obviously I have time as I have written this. Anyway, hope you like it. Reviews are chickens and we all love those, so you know the drill. Update soon I promise!

It's like salt. The air. But it's heavy too. But it tastes, I don't know, salty. It's not like we're by the ocean it's...it's just how it is. Sometimes that's just how it is. Life, as it turns out, is more like a box of heavy salt than chocolates. I mean it's nice for a while because salt is in everything. That's just how it is. And most of the time it makes things taste really good. But if you have too much, if you have too much you can't breathe because it's so heavy in the air, you know? I guess it doesn't make much sense, the salt thing. I've always kind of wanted to be the kind of person who says things, without even trying, that hit you so hard you have to stop a second. Not in a bad way, in a profound, blows your mind kind of way. Maybe I don't seem like it, like I would want to be that kind of person, but you know, don't judge a book by it's cover or whatever.

Funerals never really have a lot of fans, unless you're on the receiving end of some will money maybe, they're the types of things that are full of too much salt for most people. But, I don't know, I don't mind them. I think that funerals have just the right amount of salt when they're done the way they should be. Weddings and things like that, those are the things with too much. They seem so fake to me most of the time. So superficial. And maybe that's just because I haven't had one, or been close to someone who has. But funerals, it breaks people down the bear and lets everything out. Funerals, I find, are they places where you find people the most real they'll ever be. Maybe it's in a vulnerable way and whatever, but still, it's real. It's not something you can look at and say she's only smiling because he's got money and they'll never last. It's when you remember all the small things and the big things. When you realize what have, what you had. When you can remember everything they ever said, the way she-they said things. It's respectful, it's remorseful. It's rain in the way that's spring, you know? It's light but heavy, its contradicting. It's calling her turtle a tortoise sometimes to make up for the times you didn't, but calling him a turtle because it made her laugh. It's eating kale with a side of french fries because you can see her face. Her light disapproving frown. Her laughter. It's crying in front of everyone you know because that's what she deserves. Maybe that sounds, I don't know, stupid. That she deserves your tears. It's not that. She deserves reality. She doesn't deserve fake smiles because she's had enough of those. She doesn't deserve some half-ass eulogy that sounds like every other carbon copy wedding vow. Feeling, passionate, vulnerable, heavy, feeling. That's what she deserves. For every quirk, every comment, for everything to be heard, noticed, and adored.

She deserves profound without trying because she was profound without realizing. She changed my life, hell, she made it. She made me smile and hug, be hugged, she made me real. She made me run a marathon in a ridiculous, skintight, body suit with the word, or acronym, there she is, P.U.K.E on it. She made me eat kale and quinoa and god knows what else! She deserves the garden vegetable side of Jane Rizzoli. The real side. The rough, vulnerable side. Because that's what those vegetables are, disgusting sobbing behind an obnoxiously large photograph. But I ate them for her.

That's what you do for the person you love. You love the things that people made fun of them for. That they hate themselves for.

It's as simple as a enormous box of salt. You don't know why you have it, but it tastes good most of the time. Sometimes, theres too much and you nearly choke to death on it, but it grounds you, it opens your eyes. Because its heavy and you can't carry it all the time, so when you set it down and look at it. It makes you realize whatever there is to realize.

That's what life is like.

And it doesn't make any sense. But that's just how it is.


End file.
